100 Days of Rain
by haganenobeato
Summary: 100 Royai Themes Challenge! Expect ranges of fluff and angst and the guud stuff. 6/100 - Crime and Punishment
1. Military Personnel

_Pure Fluff_

This was inspired by my hubz being sick. and he was even so nice as to edit it for me. 3 this one is for him.

* * *

Riza stared out the window from her desk. It was a gloomy day in East City with several dark clouds passing overhead and a forecast for rain. It was early and the office was all to herself; efficiency being her only companion.

She looked back to the stack of papers, neatly lining them up. She began to reach for the stapler as the telephone for the office began to ring on the Colonel's desk. It was still early enough that not many personnel would be in the building, much less making calls.

The Lieutenant quickly set the pile of papers down and felt the awful sensation of the edge of a paper slicing the outermost layer of her finger. _Damn_. She observed it begin to trickle blood. Putting the finger to her mouth, she sat at her commanding officer's desk and answered the call.

"Colonel Mustang's office." She looked downwards and began to search for bandage dressing in the drawers.

"Lieutenant…diligent as always…I knew you'd be there."

She filtered through junk distractedly, "Colonel?"

"Lieutenant, I won't be coming in today," he coughed. "I'm sick."

Riza quirked an eyebrow. "That's awful." She said in her most unsympathetic tone. "What's wrong?"

"I think I have a cold. You can hear it in my voice, can't you?" She heard something all right. "My chest feels like it's caving in. I may die."

His voice mimicked the sounds of someone intentionally blocking their nasal airways with their fingers. She deadpanned into the telephone, "I'm sure you're not dying, sir. Although, I find it convenient for you to fall deathly ill at the beginning of the week."

"It's all coincidence. Please, do something for me."

"What is it?"

"Bring me breakfast."

Riza paused, feeling a vein begin to suspiciously flare on her forehead. "I am not bringing you breakfast."

"There's a light… at the end of a tunnel." He pleaded. "Should I go to it, Riza?"

"You must be joking."

"No… I'm faaading." The Colonel acted out, feigning coughs in between each word.

The Lieutenant let out an exasperated sigh. His entire dramatic charade didn't do well to convince her, but she yielded, grabbing a notepad and ink. "All right, what do you want?"

The door into the office opened as Riza replaced the telephone into the holder, watching Jean Havoc stroll in looking like he could use an extra hour or three of sleep. "Good morning, Second Lieutenant." She greeted brightly, grabbing her military coat on top of her chair. "I'm heading out so I'm leaving it to you for now."

"All right," he yawned. "Where are you going?"

"The Colonel is sick and he's made a formal request for a baby-sitter."

Jean chuckled, drowsy from the early hour. "Get him a pacifier on your way over there." He glanced down at her, pointing. "You should probably get a bandage for that finger."

"Oh," Hawkeye looked at it. Smeared blood painted her finger. "Right. Thanks."

The rain began to pour when she climbed the steps to his apartment, take-out food in tow. Riza shook her head. Her mind was distracted – the image of her umbrella leaning against her desk became so vivid. She gave the Colonel's door handle a try with success.

The sight of the Colonel was hilariously pitiful: sitting up in his bed with blankets, pajamas and tousled dark hair. His nose was red and his eyes looked swollen. He managed a smile with a look of congested stupor. "Good morning," he rasped.

Riza set the food on the side of his bed and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. "Well, well. A slight fever."

He narrowed his already puny eyes, "You thought I was faking it, didn't you?"

She held back, handing him the broth he so urgently demanded. "That'd be dangerously close to insubordination."

"I can think of more severe ways to commit insubordination." He smirked, wiggling his right eyebrow.

How he thought of that in his state of mind was beyond her. Riza offered feigned concern, "I wish I could understand you, sir. But your congestion makes it so difficult." The Colonel's face fell, mumbling about how cold she was.

Hawkeye brought over a bowl with cool water and a folded cloth submerged in it, placing anti-inflammatory medicine right next to a glass of water. "Colonel, you have medicine and a cloth for your fever once you lie back down. Additionally, make sure to drink plenty of fluids. It's essential for your recovery."

The rainfall wasn't letting up, she noticed. Normally, a little water wouldn't bother her, but she also didn't want to get pummeled by rain if she didn't have to. She peered outside, it looked more like a torrential downpour.

"Do you have an umbrella?" Riza asked him.

"It's broken." He said nonchalantly in between spoonfuls of soup.

She walked over to the umbrella holder she spotted and picked it up. "This one?"

He nodded silently.

She opened it, searching for damage. "Where?"

The familiar snap and spark of alchemical electricity appeared before her and she instinctually jumped back before her eyebrows were singed off. The umbrella she was holding a moment before burned intensely in front of her as it fell. The scorched skeleton of the umbrella laid on the floor. Riza turned angrily towards to him, "Colonel!"

"I tried to tell you," he said nasally, the pyrotex glove seemed to have magically appeared on the hand holding the cup soup. "It's flammable. No good."

She stomped over to him, pointing an incensed finger at him. "That wasn't remotely funny," she scolded. "You could incinerate your entire apartment being so stubbornly careless."

His dark, puffy eyes didn't even look at her, "What happened to your finger?"

Riza huffed, plopping on the side of his bed and eyeing her bandage. "It's a paper cut."

"And you call me careless." He baited, placing his empty bowl to the side. "Let me see."

The Lieutenant displayed her bandaged finger, as if staring was going to heal the wound. The Colonel grabbed her hand with exaggerated concern and began to study the digit. She turned her attention to the storm outside - even if she did have an umbrella, visibility would be incredibly questionable by foot or car.

"I know what can make it better." Riza turned to him as he kissed her finger. "There. All better."

Riza felt the unsolicited blush creep across to her face. "Your fever is making you absolutely delirious." She pulled back her hand. "Why?"

"Not delirious," he said, looking satisfied. "Just grateful for the food."

"An umbrella would have been sufficient," Riza shot back at him.

"I used to have one, but someone burnt it to a crisp." He flashed her a grin and she groaned, bringing a palm to her face. "I don't know why you're so wound up. It's not like you're going anywhere."

"I'm being held hostage by my nasally superior officer." Riza noted incredulously.

"That's not very nice, Riza. I prefer congested."

Her annoyance was reaching its peak, though unnecessarily. She's already ruled out walking or driving back to the Command Center. Riza smiled at him.

He was right, she wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

A/N - I have a feeling I don't know what type of commitment I've gotten myself into.


	2. Gunshot

A/N - I should just rename this 100 Days of Sexual Tension because that's basically what a few of them are. I'm trying to avoid getting angsty, especially with some of these themes its easy to fall into that. But this was so much fun to write! I hope you have fun reading it as much I had fun writing it! hubs had a huge part editing it again and that was fun too~~

* * *

Booming echoes resonated off the dirt ground. The shooting range private to military personnel was empty except for a single body. She laid on the ground, hair loose in the wind, protective glasses on her face. Riza Hawkeye held an automatic rifle tucked into her right shoulder. Rhythmically, she aimed and shot at the target with precision. After emptying each clip, she reloaded from the array of full-metal cartridges she had neatly arranged on right.

The day held a brisk temperature, but he noticed that didn't bother her. Eschewing the comfort of warm clothing, she wore her typical short-sleeved tactical turtleneck and her thin military slacks. _Typical Riza,_ thought Mustang. _Efficiency always has priority._

Roy meandered towards her, hands in his pockets. He couldn't remember how he arrived at the shooting range. One moment, he overheard Catalina talking about Hawkeye's whereabouts on her day off and the next he had made it across the entire Eastern Complex toward the secluded gun range. Arriving at the range, Roy wondered if he could convince her to give him a private lesson. He knew she avoided giving them unless it were mandated by top brass citing that there were no published guidelines or regulations about what to cover. In truth, he knew her time at the gun range was her idea of R&R, a rare instance of when she could unwind and free herself from the rigidity of being the perfect soldier.

Mustang's curiosity always piqued when she practiced because she made it an art. At what point in her life did Riza determine being a sharpshooter was her calling?

He stood over her, next to her ammo. She didn't notice him, her focus trained on her form and the target. Each pull of the trigger, without fail, slammed a bullet through the target with deadly accuracy. _The Hawk's Eye._ Her hand reached over to reload, but met his boot instead. Slightly startled, Riza looked up and saw him. She removed her glasses and stood, dusting off the dirt off her. "Good afternoon, Colonel."

"Afternoon, Lieutenant." After a moment, Roy realized he had no topic to discuss with her and was thrown off by her uncharacteristically casual look. So, he did what any empty-headed boy does when faced with a pretty girl. He made up a topic on the spot. "Your hair is longer."

She held and examined a tendril of her blonde hair, "I suppose it is. Do you need anything, sir?"

Her ability to habitually maintain formalities even when they weren't necessary perplexed him. He shook his head, smiling, "I was walking by and saw you practicing. I thought I could give you a few pointers on the finer nuances of proper shooting technique ." He resisted the urge to wink.

"You," she pointed at him, then back to her sternum. "are going to give _me_ pointers?" Her incredulous tone laid bare her pride.

He pursed his lips, "Is that arrogance?"

Riza shook her head, almost blushing. "No. I just- No one's really…" She stammered, trying to find the correct words. "Offered to show me a few pointers."

"Why? Because you think you know them all?"

Mustang noticed the moment she realized she had been manipulated. The flustered reaction he was baiting disappeared from her face, and she narrowed her eyes at him, smirking. "Yes. I know them all," she placed a hand on her hip. "And I've seen you shoot, hardly an example for a superior officer. Properly handling a sophisticated piece of equipment isn't as easy as snapping your fingers."

Mustang brought a hand to chest, imitating an injury. "Oof, you're so hurtful. What do you think I should do?"

"I think you need to start with the basics."

Roy didn't think he was _that_ bad. "I was under the impression you didn't give lessons."

"I'll make an exception." Riza shrugged.

"Well," he said dejectedly. "If you think it'll help."

Mustang turned away to shed his blue military coat and rolling the sleeves of the white button-up that was underneath. Grinning at himself, he realized he won himself a private lesson. _No regrets_.

Hawkeye grabbed a regular pistol from the lineup she brought with her. "Here," She handed it to him. "Go ahead and aim at the target."

Roy fell into a shooting stance, spreading his feet shoulder-width. With his favored arm extended and his support's elbow bent, he aimed at the new target Riza had placed. Mustang felt her tap on his thumb's knuckle.

"Your grip is too wide, and it'll eventually cause misalignment with your forearm." Riza moved behind him, putting her arms on either side of his. Her body radiated a pleasant warmth.

 _Concentrate, Mustang._

She moved her finger across his grip on the handgun. "Having a stone grip won't do you any favors. Loosen that grip slightly." Riza slid her palm up his exposed forearm, analyzing the tension on his hold. He watched her focus closely on his position and could feel her breath on his neck.

 _Concentrate, Mustang!_

Roy's eyes widened and he nearly became breathless as he felt her hand slide over his torso. "Control your breathing." She whispered, running her hand from his chest to his abdomen.

"There's nothing wrong with your stance," She instructed calmly, touching his thigh. "But I find stepping back with your dominant hand's foot and blading your body allows for better support in position and recoil." He moved as instructed the best he could, trying not to falter and confused by his own body's reactions.

The Lieutenant took a few steps back. "Now fire."

Roy pulled the trigger, astounded by his control and aim with the subtle changes. Clearly, there existed a massive gap between her skill and his.

"Well done," Riza complimented with a delicate glint in her eye. "But you've got a ways to go before you earn that sharpshooter badge." She was teasing him.

He relaxed and placed the gun down. "You're a good teacher. Though I could have done without being felt up. Contain yourself, Lieutenant. I know once the military coat comes off the ladies start swooning, but you've got better control."

Riza quickly spun around from the pistol she placed back. "But Colonel Mustang," she effortlessly slipped into her Elizabeth persona. She stepped towards him, just as close as she was before if not closer, placing her hands on his chest. "I just can't control myself in your coat-less presence." She walked her fingers around his neck, pushing her hips against him.

"Out of all the years, when have you strolled down here to see me practice?" Riza leaned in closer to his ear, tickling his ear as she spoke, "You didn't come here by chance, I know you overheard Rebecca because I sent her."

Surprised, he leaned back to look at her, "Did you really?"

"No. And don't interrupt me again." Riza stated with the face of a stone-cold killer, swinging him around and pushing him away. "Good bye."

Roy picked up his jacket as he walked away unable to suppress the smile at being duped. He was supposed to be the duper, not the duped! He looked back at her one more time and she was already back on the ground the way he found her, except he could see her smiling too.


	3. Battlefield

This one is for egalitarian-nature-blog on tumblr whose name I dont know because I'm a terrible person! This one deals with grief, hurt and comfort with a side of sprinkled fluff. I'm meticulous about writing angst and hope I didn't over do it or under delivered. But anyway!

 **03 Battlefield**

* * *

The days following the announcement of Brigadier General Hughes' death cast a pall over the office. She noted Mustang's behavior took a sharp turn from his normal joviality, but it seemed taboo to remark on his emotional wellbeing, even when he requested leave for the funeral for both he and Riza. It was frustrating that the military turned a blind eye to the mental anguish suffered by its officers.

On the night of his death, she mourned, silently crying in the darkness of her own apartment with only Hayate to comfort her. Riza thought of the family who survived him. Beautiful Gracia and all the things that she shared with her husband from his deployment to Ishval and not knowing if he'd come back, to marriage and their first child together, and now realizing Elysia would grow up without a father. _A father who loved her and doted on her._ A strange, foreign concept to Riza, but knew it existed from Maes' intense love for his daughter. It only made the tears fall harder

Riza first noticed the change in the Colonel's demeanor when he worked diligently through the day after. The phone was eerily silent, and she quickly realized it was likely Maes who called him so often. She also noticed Roy conducted his meetings with cold and tacit professionalism. Despite her constant chastising, she missed the warmth of his humor.

Hawkeye knew he was mourning, but the Colonel masked it well. To others, Mustang presented the face of an officer that had lost a soldier in the line of duty. He hid his grief behind the efficiency of bureaucracy, executing procedure after procedure per the duties and role of a commanding officer. But Riza picked it up in his eyes, the bags under them, the missing jokes, the absence of his smile; Roy presented the face of a man that had lost a dear friend.

Two days before the military send-off for Hughes in Central, Colonel Mustang dismissed the subordinates in his unit. As his personal adjutant, the Lieutenant stayed behind to help him wrap up before they left.

Hawkeye stood attentively to his left. The sun's rays poured into the room that afternoon but failed to rid the lingering gloom in the atmosphere. She glanced over to his desk, watching him scribble onto the paper with his pen. He appeared tired and emotionless. She wanted to throw away the pomp of duty and comfort this shell of a man, but circumstance dictated that she let her commanding officer finish.

"Are you almost done?" The Lieutenant asked.

"Yes. Nearly."

"Perhaps we should leave a day early to Central. I'm sure Gracia would be grateful for a visit. And Elysia.." Hawkeye's voice softened, adopting a more comforting tone. "I have no doubt she would love to see her Uncle Roy."

The pen he held dropped onto the desk. It startled her slightly.

"Sir?" She hastily recovered, standing up straighter.

"I haven't made plans to see them." His voice a trembling whisper. "I've been burying myself into work that I didn't even…" The Colonel broke off. It was faint, but Riza heard the crack in his voice. His hair covered his eyes as his head bowed. He clenched his fists on his desk, and his breathing stuttered.

Her heart breaking, Riza approached him, rotating his chair to face her. Casting aside her duties as a lieutenant, she embraced him tightly. The Colonel nestled into her shoulder, and he put his arms around her waist.

Moisture seeped into the crease of her uniform. She pulled away slightly and saw the face of a heartbroken, vulnerable man when he turned his head toward hers. Repressed agony and grief washed over him, the confident and haughty Colonel Mustang no longer recognizable. It showed in the slightest part of his lips as he frowned, the upturn of his eyebrows, the shaking in his eyes looking for comfort within hers. His eyes glistened with lingering tears and his nose visibly red and swollen.

Riza pulled him off his chair and wrapped her arms around him again. He sobbed into her shoulder, and she felt a lump in her throat, her own eyes burning with the onset of tears. _How long did you plan on carrying this by yourself?_

"I- He was..." The Colonel sputtered. "I've known him for so long."

Riza stroked the back of his head. "I know."

"He had a family." The tears continued to fall. Her heart plunged as he gripped her tighter. "He was murdered…right as he was calling me, Riza." Roy burrowed deeper into her, whimpering as he spoke, "He's really gone, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir."

Hawkeye spent the rest of the evening with the Colonel in his office, eventually transitioning to the couch. He continued to mourn into her lap until sleep took him. It was then Riza noticed a little peace within him.


	4. Grave

**TW: Suicidal thoughts, Deaths**

So I listened to Dark Paradise by Lana del Rey for the first time in a LONG time on repeat and got this. And I always thought about Riza whenever I listened to it. honestly, i love this - is that bad? I wrote this after writing out a heated argument between Roy and Riza for a different story.

 **004 Grave**

 _Hurt/More Hurt/Angst_

* * *

The first was her mother's.

The second her father's.

The third, the Ishvalan child's make-shift grave marker.

Hughes'.

Jean Havoc.

Alphonse Elric.

And lastly, she buried her hidden love affair along with the love of her life.

The evening Lust murdered the Hero of Ishval, Riza was prepared to die at the hands of a Homunculus – to join in him in dark paradise. But Alphonse stood in the way between her and the Homunculus.

"Run, Alphonse." But where was he going to go when Lust blocked the entrance.

She allowed the child endure the slashes to his metal body as she wept helplessly kneeling on the floor, gun barrels emptied. The sounds of slicing metal unnerved her, but did little to stir her from her trance. He fought until he couldn't anymore – until the voice from his armor faded from within.

Riza looked up to see the blood seal cut neatly in half, "Alphonse?"

Lust hummed, "Ho. So you still have some life left in you." Her digits lengthened into deadly claws and pierced Riza in the left shoulder, pinning her to the cement ground beneath her. She heard the click-clop of high heels approaching. "Such a shame your handsome Colonel had to die. And you even let the armored boy die. Two sacrifices in one night. Tsk tsk. I'll give you your death wish, human."

After a struggled reach to her back pocket, Riza's fingers clashed into a snap, igniting the air around Lust. It was enough to unpin her from the ground and disorient the bitch. Before Lust could regenerate, Hawkeye continued the barrage of flames upon her body. Her unearthly screams filled the air as she writhed in pain. Concentrated wave after wave, her brown eyes flashed with the flow of the fire around the burning flesh until Lust reached her limit.

Lust's lavender eyes glared into hers, one of her talons inches away from her face. The Homunculus managed to grin, "How ironic. For me to underestimate a woman's lust. For her beloved. Oh no… for her survival.

In turn, Hawkeye felt nothing. She watched as the creature faded with the wind.

And then darkness.

For a while, Hawkeye thought she had her wish granted. She realized she was wrong when her eyes opened and the sterile smell of a hospital room registered in her nose.

Riza was told that her body was found by the Fuhrer himself next to Alphonse's scraps and Lust's dust. The day had taken two soldiers and one child. She supposed she was unlucky, especially to have been found with the Flame Alchemist's signature glove on her hand.

She couldn't talk - not to the nurses and doctors, to the rest of her unit, even less to unhinged Edward Elric who deserved her answers. He needed to hear that it was her fault, but she was too selfish.

People came up to her before the funeral to offer their condolences, as if she was his wife. Maybe in her dreams, maybe in a world that wouldn't exist anymore.

Her tipping point that hour was when members from the State Alchemist Board had the audacity to approach her about taking up the mantle as the Flame Alchemist. She cursed herself for not pulling the trigger the night before.

Chris Mustang stood next to her, silently wiping the tears that would occasionally fall. Riza could tell she was tearing from within as well. But Chris was stronger than she. She put a hand around Riza's shoulder and pulled her in closer as the pallbearers walked passed them.

Everything within her wanted to scream, yell, and plead for them to stop burying Roy, Jean, and even Alphonse, who they said died for the sake of the country. She wanted to claw into her chest to make the agony hurt – to make it go away. But her apathy stayed with her, even throughout the Fuhrer's speech.

On a cloudy and somber Tuesday, she awoke prepared. With her honorably discharged papers approved, her days after the funeral were silent and lonely. She fought the decision as it felt everything was taken from her in one swift strike. Fuery offered to take care of Hayate while she coped, but maybe she needed him. No, she needed Roy.

Riza dragged her feet over to her desk and pulled out the drawer to expose the hand pistol. This time, she wouldn't look back. She positioned herself where it would be less messy overall and closed her eyes.

As her finger moved to the trigger, the telephone rang. She waited for it to stop, but it kept on and on. Riza gently placed the pistol to the side and lifted herself to the phone. "Hello?" Her voice sounded hoarse.

A chipper voice answered on the other side. "Hello, yes. I'm trying to speak to Riza Hawkeye?"

"This is she. Who is this?"

"Yes, we're calling from Central Hospital. You stayed with us a few days ago."

She sighed into the receiver, "I'm aware."

"Well, we have your bloodwork back and we've found traces of human Chorionic Gonadotropin." Riza let go of the handle. She heard the lady as it hung, "Congratulations!"


	5. Death

A/N - ok so someone pls tell me how i can't finish things that are like four pages long, but this I churn out in one day. Well I headcanon Roy using a Philosopher's stone to erase Riza's back and I'm pretty passionate about it. You could put this after "Even in the Darkness" and before "Portrait" (which isn't on ffnet but it is on tumblr cause its based of a friend's beautiful fanart) if I wanted to put this in a timeline, but not necessary. anyway! no deaths in this one, just angst.

Enjoy!

Fluff/Hurt/Comfort

* * *

05 Death

"How do you feel?"

He blinked slowly as the light began to invade his sight. Roy couldn't begin to describe the overwhelming relief that washed against him. It tightened his chest and his throat constricted with unprecedented emotion.

Hardly two days had elapsed since the Promised Day and they had felt like years, but he had been prepared, he resolved to live in the darkness and depend on others. If a lack of vision was the cost to dismantle the Homunculus and meant they kept their lives, there was nothing he would take for granted

Until his blurry sight cleared and the image of a blond woman with impossibly beautiful, brown eyes came into view and he witnessed the change from worry to relief as he called her by rank. That moment set the foundation for Roy's newfound and private dedication to never take for granted how striking she was.

In Ishval, in his darkest moments in the war, he asked Hughes how he could face Gracia with what he had seen. His response rung in his mind about swallowing his own sins and smiling when he was with her. It had taken ten years, but it became as clear as the vision in front of him.

They both aged three years since then. Ishval blossomed and thrived like a desert flower, as they worked with the Ishvalans to establish a business hub between Amestris and Xing.

But their time was up. The budgeted money for military assistance had run out and reparations in other borders were needed. Roy mused it was all a clever ploy from the Fuhrer himself as he would conveniently retire by the end of the next spring, but promised eligibility for the seat of Fuhrer to married candidates only. His place was here, but as Fuhrer, he could do whatever was necessary.

As the day began to give way to dusk, they made their usual rounds for the last district, ensuring well being and logging any concerns from the citizens. On their way back, in a remote route back to their shared shack, he noticed the way she smiled as she walked, pleased with her work for the day. He stopped her and unsurprisingly concern bubbled up to her face. Instead of a ring, he presented her with a red stone. "I want to erase your back, Riza."

The peace in her eyes vanished, replaced by confusion noted by the pinch in her brow. "Where did you get that?"

"It's what remained after Dr. Marcoh restored my sight. I kept it until I could do it myself."

She looked at it, then to him with hurt flashing in her eyes. "And you want to use it, use those souls to… erase my back?"

As he nodded, she briskly walked forward, muttering. "No."

"Your father scarred your back and I mutilated it. Let me, please.."

She shook her head as it hung, slowly at first then fervently. She fell to her knees with the sands beneath her, collapsed from emotion. The warm breath of the desert rustled her shoulder length hair and, in a poetic way, chronicling the growth and progress made in Ishval after three years. "No... I can't."

He knelt in front of her, grabbing her hands into his.

"Not at the expense of their souls, souls whose mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers I helped in wiping out in the name of a false government making that same cursed stone you have in your hand. And yet…"

Roy waited. Pained as he was to see her like this, he waited.

"It's so heavy." She said in a low tone. She lifted her head, revealing the orbs of brown with golden flecks swelled with tears at the brink of bursting. "This burden. A burden I didn't choose and I tried to use for good and I tried to burn it away." Her eyes looked around as she chose her words, streams of tears silently flowing down her face. "The mere thought of erasing it forever makes me as happy as being with you. But using a philosopher's stone to do it. The irony alone horrifies me, Roy." Her chest began to rise and fall faster and deeper, she clenched her jaw harshly, shutting her eyes. Riza unexpectedly fell forward onto his lap and grasped his clothing with her fingers. "How-" She sobbed, clenching her fingers in anguish. "How can I do good by those souls if I use them to wipe my hands clean of the alchemy that helped eradicate them - if I use them to release myself of my father's burden?"

In spite of her tears, he chuckled as he combed through her hair. "After all these years, don't you think you deserve to be free?"

She opened her eyes, furrowing her brows in disbelief. Riza sat straight looking him in a glare hotter than the Ishvalan Sun. "How can you say th-"

"Have you already forgotten what you've done for Ishvalans, for Ishval? The numerous times you've sat in prayer in the beginning when others were scared to. Cooking with Doane and Masson, training dogs with little Vibert, building homes and establishing a community. We can't change the past, Riza. But there's still hope for the future. I know you're capable, because you even placed your hope in a blind man once, three years ago.

"Don't think of it as them sacrificing themselves again, because the sin was committed. As cruel and unjust as it is, they no longer have bodies to return to. If you were an Ishvalan, wouldn't you want your last breath of any seldom of life to eliminate the chances of this happening to anyone else?"

Her eyes followed as his hand disappeared in his pocket and rematerialized with the stone. Her bottom lip quivered.

"It lives with me and it lives with you, but it dies with us."


	6. Crime and Punishment

Let's steer away from the angst a little bit, shall we? It's my first time doing something like this and I hope you guys like it! 3

* * *

"Are you prepared to face the consequences for your crimes, Mustang?"

Roy wanted to chuckle, not only at the weight of the question, but the severity in her voice. Something about the familiar face bearing down on him with her stoic gaze froze him. There was no doubt she'd rehearsed that line, waiting for this moment.

Next to the her, the First Lady sat with a concerned look after giving her testimony against him. Her arm must've surely been twisted to take the stand as witness to his transgressions. But for how long that she couldn't tell him? The Honorable Judge Mallory had allowed Riza to testify against him, as his wife. Several pieces of this didn't add up. From the height, he wondered, was it easier to judge people if you're looking down on them? His chest rose with a deep inhale. "I'm not prepared. I'm not ready."

She crossed her arms, humming pensively as she nodded in her chair. "Too bad. Because what you did is really bad."

"How bad?" He asked her, leaning forward towards her from across the decorated room. "It can't be **that** bad."

He touched a nerve. The judge gasped, "Are you kidding me?"

Roy shifted back in his chair and met her glare, noticing her tightened the grip on her gravel.

"Just for that I sentence you to eat not just your veggies, but _my_ veggies too." She mashed her toy mallet down with a squeak.

Roy raised his eyebrows in surprise to his daughter-turned-judge, laughter intermingled as he spoke. "You can't do that."

"I can!" She stood up on the chair with a wobble. Her arms extended towards up the ceiling with her toy mallet still in her left hand. "And I will!"

Roy lifted her off the chair and the child began to immediately squirm and wriggle about.

"The guilty must confess or everyone dies!" She exclaimed as she squeaked her "gravel" against the nearest wall. "Order - in - the- courtroom!"

He turned to Riza when he finally was able to hold her from falling out of his grip. His wife had a palm to her face as she shook her head. "Have you been reading to her again?"

Riza's shoulders began to lift and fall with chuckle, her head lifted to expose her humored expression. "I can assure you, I haven't read to her any literature that has to do with law. Perhaps she overhears your radio stories?"

"But those only come on late at-" The Fuhrer turned to the suddenly quiet girl in his arms whose eyes of scarlet red wandered curiously away from his. "Have you been sneaking out of bed at night?"

The words that followed gave him a strange sense of pride. "Yes Papa, but only to spend some time with you."

She was coy, this wasn't the first time using the line. Her outright honesty always amused him. A soft chuckle came from Riza and laughter of his own wasn't far away. The grin that erupted almost earned her leniency. He set her down. "Is that why you wanted to put me on trial for eating your secret stash of candy that you shouldn't have had in the first place?"

She swayed innocently with her arms behind her. "That wasn't the point, Papa."

He nodded and hummed contemplatively, crossing his arms at her. In that moment, Roy realized where she had gotten that from earlier during his trial. He could see Riza completely enthralled by their daughter's theatrics. "Then tell me what is the point?"

She swiveled to look at her mother with twin silver braids swinging, mirroring her turn. Riza offered a raised eyebrow and when she turned back, she smiled widely at him. "You didn't share with Mommy."

Roy's balled up first went to his hips and he lowered himself to her level. "You mean to tell me you colluded with your mother? That this was all rigged?"

She gasped with feigned surprise, "No!" And after a moment, her shoulders fell. "Okay, yes."

He snatched the toy hammer from her and stood tall in front of her. "Then I sentence you to eat half of my own veggies." The toy squeaked from the top of her head and he could see her begin to form an argument in her tiny head. "This judge will hear no more, go play in your room while I deal with you mother."

Her brow fell flat with frustration but she listened and he watched her as she scuttled away.

"You were more than welcome to step in at any point." He turned on the balls of his feet towards the woman left in the room, sitting crossed legged in the chair and donning a pleasant smile on her face.

Her brown eyes moved from the hall Mallory had left through towards him. "No, no. I think you handled that with grace and mercy, your Excellency."

He walked to her, placing the toy hammer in his back pocket. "A corrupt judge - understandable. But a corrupt witness? That's unforgivable with harsher punishment. You rehearsed her too."

She laughed with mirth in her eyes. "You heard her, she wanted to spend more time with you."

"That still doesn't prove you are innocent." Roy leaned in on her, trapping her between his arms as they rested at the backs of her chairs.

She raised an eyebrow, "Does this somehow get you-?"

"Mama, Papa!"

The sudden cry pulled him out of whatever mood he was in and Riza jolted out of her seat. In unison, they began to dart out of the living room, but she came around with her arms out in front of her with tears at the corners of her eyes.

"I think I killed him." She said with a quiver in her voice.

"Oh no. That's so sad. What happened?" The First Lady took the dead fish out of her hands as Roy handed her a cloth to wrap it in.

Mallory began slowly. "I accidentally stepped on him."

"Accidentally? What was your foot doing in his fishbowl?"

She wiped the tear in her eyes with the back of her hand as he wiped them clean. "It wasn't."

"Then how did he get on the floor?"

"I put him there."

"And then what happened?"

"I tripped while I was trying to flap with him and then when I moved my foot, he wasn't flapping anymore."

He exhaled and his head hung. The amount of mischief the little girl managed to do reminded him of himself, tangling herself in a near-exact situation under the Madame's care. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear they were biologically related. And yet after three and a half years, she was as good as his own.

Roy looked at her sternly. "When we got him what was one of the first things we said?"

She looked down, crestfallen. "That he's not like Hayate or Nikkō and he needs to stay in the bowl."

"Did he?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want to stand trial?"

His girl was silent, but she shook her head again.

"Does the guilty confess?"

She nodded slowly.

He patted the top of her head, bringing some strands , "Then it's settled. Let's give him a proper funeral in the bathroom."

* * *

Heavily inspired by Yotsuba& and that one scene from Kill Bill!


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